Penalty Box Hearts

Teflon Don

For a long moment, he looked at me. His chest was heaving, and sweat was dripping from his jaw. There was also something in his expression that had cracked open. It was not anger at all.

Soon, I realized that it was fear.

It was the sort of fear he had been hiding under his bravado demeanor from the first day we met.

''If I am not out there, I don't know who I am.'' His voice was low, meant only for me to hear. 'I don't know how not to play.''

I forgot the fact that we were standing in front of the bench full of other players. I told him, ''you are the captain.'' My voice was very soft, it was very alluring.

I forgot about the cameras that were everywhere and the fact that they could catch anything.

''That's not going to change just because you are not out there scoring goals tonight.''

Before Ronan would make the call, Doyle already did. He pulled Ronan off the game on the basis of ''maintenance.''

That word,''maintenance,'' followed exactly nobody in the press box, however, it bought them some time.

That day, the Ironclads lost, 4-1.

After the game, Ronan sat in the training room while I put ice on his shoulder.

Both of them didn't say much to each other as the post-game noise from the locker room beside them muffled through the wall.

Eventually, Ronan said, ''thank you.''

''What for?''

''You made the call that I couldn't.'' He looked at me in an intensely unguarded way, and one that cameras never got to catch on.

''People usually always want what I can offer them on the ice. Nobody has ever done what you did for me today.''

''I don't want anything from you on the ice.''

He replied, ''I know.'' He said it as if it mattered more than I could understand. ''And that's where the problem lies, Callahan, because,

I might want to give you something, regardless.''

On Sunday, the team flew to Chicago. It was a three-game trip, and I found myself sitting on seat 14C.

I had with me a pile of injury reports, and a headache I could only blame on the turbulent flight, and not the man who was currently

arguing with a flight attendant about more legroom.

Priya said to me from the far end of the aisle seat, ''you are staring.''

I replied, ''I'm working.''

''You are staring at Voss' shoulder as if it personally offended you.''

''Maybe it did.''

Priya shared a low and knowing laugh. ''I have been with this team for six years for what it is worth, and I assure you that I have not seen him this way with anyone before. He's usually a Teflon Don. Nothing sticks, and nothing gets in. But you? You are definitely getting in.''

"I'm his therapist."

''Sure.'' Priya turned over a page. ''Continue telling yourself that.''

By the time we landed, I had drafted, deleted, and redrafted a treatment schedule I didn't need. I did that because I had to make an excuse to not think about why Ronan was always turning around and glancing at me every twenty minutes.

It was as if he was checking to make sure I didn't disappear.

Of course, when we arrived at the hotel, they put us on the same floor.

At midnight, I found him in the hallway with his back against the wall outside his room. His jacket was off, and his tie was loosened.

He looked like someone who had not slept efficiently in weeks.

I asked him, ''can't sleep?'' That was the only question that seemed safer than any other question trying to jump out of my throat.

''My shoulder. It's a bit loud tonight.'' He tried to smile, but all he could do was grimace. ''You are also up late.''

''Occupational hazard. Insomnia. Caring so much about other people's bodies and neglecting my schedule the entire time.''

''Come here.'' He nodded towards the space beside him. At that moment, I went against every rule I had set for myself, walked across the hallway, and sat.

Neither of us talked for a while. The hotel carried a quiet that was special for that night. The hush of a building full of strangers pretending to be asleep. I felt his good shoulder warm against mine.

''Can I tell you something?'' He eventually asked.

"Depends."

''For the past eleven years that I have been in this league, I have had only two people tell me the truth, and that's my mom... and you.''

My chest started to ache in a way that was not professional at all, and everything to do with the loneliness I heard in his voice.

''That's quite low for the rest of the league.''

''Yeah...'' He turned his head to look at me, and we were now close. Closer than the hallway could give them.

''It is.''

''Ronan...''

''I know,'' he said. He didn't move nor push, instead, he held my eyes as if he was making memory of them. ''I remember, you have rules.''

''I am already breaking them just by sitting here.''

''Okay then, break them some more,'' he said with a murmur, ''and let me kiss you.''

I should have easily said no and gotten away with it. I had every reason to say no. In fact, I had a folder full of reasons to say no. I had a whole city's worth of reasons.

Instead, what did I do?

I found myself leaning into him, and as soon as his mouth met mine, careful at first, and then devoid of all carefulness, I forgot every single rule I had made.

Everything dissolved as if it never mattered in the first place.

He was the first to pull back, with his forehead resting on mine, breathing unsteadily.

''You have just complicated everything,'' I whispered.

He pulled back first, forehead resting against hers, breathing unsteady.

"Good," he said. "I was getting tired of uncomplicated."